Skurdulka's House (a LGBTQ chosen-family thriller)

Part 1: The Visitor

Taking a shallow sip of white wine, Ari's lip piercing tapped softly against the glass. Letting the bittersweet, syrupy drink sit on their tongue as they leaned back on the rooftop, they looked into the dark woods surrounding the house, listening to the breathing of the summer night.

"It's beautiful up here." Glass of wine in hand, Willow laid back on the shingles next to Ari, looking up at the stars. "I see why you like it."

"Mmhmm." At the top of the house, two stories over the sticky summer heat, it felt like they could see everything, not just the lawn and the forest orbit around the house, but the past and the future. Ari saw the hundreds of lonely black nights that had passed as they toed the edge of their humanity between human and animal shapes, between hope and desolation. Taking a breath through their nose and another sip of wine, Ari almost swallowed their next question. "Do you think people change? The world, the people—everything. Does it change? Really?"

Willow straightened. Ari felt her deep brown eyes, but didn't' look back. "I think it's changed a lot. Look at what things were a hundred years ago—you and me, we'd never be like we are now."

A hundred years ago. She had to say that number. It felt like an dangerous omen, glaring straight at them, bound in the knotted threads of fate. 

1926. The year was a stain on Ari's mind, consuming their thoughts like a curse. Mahla's life—and death—rested on that number, on that unforgivable, bloodsoaked summer evening in July. Soon—exactly a hundred years ago.

Ari dared not look at Willow. With long, braided black hair, a deep gaze holding both patience and fury, and grace Ari couldn't fathom, she was so much like Mahla.

"The surface changes—the looks, the buildings, the cars, the tech—but what if people don't really change?"

"They do, Ari. I know sometimes it doesn't seem like it, but people have gotten better."

Ari swallowed. I hope so. Somehow, everything about 1926 seemed so far away it was like a dream, or a nightmare, barely real at all—but at the same time, it felt like last summer.

"What's bugging you?" Willow asked.

I've been alive for hundreds of years. I can change form at will. I saw my friend murdered a hundred years ago and my heart still hurts and fears.

There was so much she would never believe, never understand. Just like Mahla.

A dark shape at the side door of the house pulled Ari's eyes. The shape hesitated, looking around, then started a creeping skulk across the front lawn.

"Chris!" Ari called down.

The teenager straightened, scanned the lawn, then finally looked up. "Um. Hi." They gave a half-hearted wave.

"What are you doing?"

"Um. I thought I heard a noise."

Ari frowned. "Stop texting your girlfriend and go to bed."

"But. Um..."

"You'll see her tomorrow. It's one o' clock in the morning. Go to bed."

Ari heard Chris's heavy sigh even from the rooftop. Jamming their hands in the pockets of their black sweatshirt—a ridiculous attempt at stealth in the eighty-degree heat—they stalked back to the house.

Willow chuckled, taking a sip of wine. "How often does that happen?"

"More often than I'd like."

"Ari the helicopter parent."

Ari turned sharply, about to argue, but her teasing smile stopped them. They smiled too. "Parent," they mused. Skurdulka the parent. "Who would've ever thought of that?"

"It suits you fine."

"Hm. I've never been the caring type."

"You're not a hugger. Doesn't mean you don't care."

Ari was quiet a while. "I used to think I knew my future. I feel like I still do, even though I've never been right before. Why is that? Does everyone do that?"

"I think so. We all want to be certain, even if we know we can't be."

After nearly giving up on humanity as a species, life as any type of guardian over humans would've seemed like a mean joke to Ari a year ago. But two kids had renewed their hope and their trust—perhaps the new role was a debt to be paid as much as an unexpected honor. With four teenagers sleeping in the rooms below—on their own razor edges of hope, loss, fear, and trust—and many more on the ever-lit streets beyond the house, Ari saw a future bright and tumultuous, with the kind of blooming beauty and scarring fire that only youth possessed.

"Hmm." Ari finished the wine, running their tongue thoughtfully across the metal in their lip. "I should know better by now."

"You could live to be a thousand and I don't think that would ever change."

Ari smiled, tasting the secrets on their lips.

"I'm getting tired. Would it be all right if I stayed here tonight?" Willow asked.

"Of course. More than enough room."

Ari felt her eyes again, a tacit question hanging between them, thicker than the humid air. Can I stay with you?

Drawing a deep breath, Ari opened their mouth to speak, but stopped short. Leaning in, Ari studied the tall figure that emerged from the trees and trudged across the grass. When the figure reached the driveway, weary, plodding steps crunching across the gravel, Ari glimpsed long, striking red hair and a strong frame.

"Who is that?" Ari said quietly, peering down.

"Did they just come out of the woods?" Willow looked closer too.

Closing their eyes, Ari willed the change behind their lids—hawk's eyes. The world sharpened, every edge and color and shadow suddenly precise. Focusing on the stranger approaching the front door, Ari saw ripped jeans and muddy shoes, bloody knuckles and scarred arms, and a young, weary face with bright eyes and high-cheeks, one puffy and bruised.

Ari barely stopped themself from morphing into a sparrow and fluttering down the two stories. With Willow beside them, they stood up, heading for the bedroom window behind. "Come on. I think this kid needs our help." 

... 

Author's note: In the previous story I wanted so bad to write from Ari/Skurdulka's perspective, so I thought that'd be a good place to start! For anyone unaware, this is a continuation of my previous short story "Skurdulka the Cryptid." Feel free to give it a read, but you won't be lost if you don't. :) Other chapters may still be first-person from Chris's point of view, the previous story's main character, but I haven't decided yet. Any thoughts? 

So excited to write some more of this!!! :D :) :D :) As per usual, pop in on Sunday nights/Monday mornings EST!